The Legend of the Chrome Dragon
by TheCaptainSmirk
Summary: A pre-Ep4 tale about an ace pilot and his closest friend, based around the Star Wars Tabletop RPG made by Fantasy Flight Games.


The following is based on a Star Wars RPG Force and Destiny/Age of Rebellion game. Unlike your usual tabletop RPG experience, there were only two players for most of it, and we took turns co-GMing for each other. I, Xel, was the GM when The Chrome Dragon (aka Dirk Pavane) wanted to do something, and in turn he was the GM when I wanted to do something. The plotline was improvised on the spot by the both of us, the only things agreed upon beforehand were that the game would start 5 years prior to the Battle of Yavin, and we'd more or less try to keep with the canon arc that the movies and recently modified EU take. I thought some of the junk we did would make a good story, so here we are!

* * *

Chapter 1: Shattered

My first encounter with the man who would come to be known as the chrome dragon was an... awkward one. I'll tell you, if you're in the market to make a quick friend, stick your arm in his chest up to your elbow. Surest way I know of, but I don't have a particularly great record of making friends.

I joined the Rebellion against the empire early, but I never felt bound by them to begin with. I've lived in ships most of my time, travelling here and there selling wares... but when I felt it came time I needed to fight, I joined up. Was never much one for hesitating, for better or worse.

I was given unique rank among the recruits, a Specialist they called me. Because I was so accustomed to space and fixing on things, and had my fair share of gunplay to boot, I was put on a fast track. A little too fast, maybe, but I've not the mind to think on such things.

My first mission was a doozy. I was part of a team of four, sent to capture and re-purpose an Imperial comm relay near a hyperspace lane. If we didn't get done fast enough, the Imps would hear of some of our fleet movements, and we couldn't have that. So the group of us was sent out, with near no training to speak of, on a mission that we couldn't fail. The real clincher of the whole deal is they couldn't even afford to give me a weapon before we was sent off. I figure maybe I was intended to be the mechanic on the mission, and as such would have no need for a means of self defense. Damn volunteer armies...

We made good time to the planet, and made landfall about a week after we left Dantooine. One of our number was a shifty little Bothan with a long rifle. He took the speeder we brought with us (how they could afford him a speeder and not a gun for me is beyond my reason) and zipped off to find a vantage point for the relay. The rest of us hoofed it the mile and a half there.

When the place got in sight, we noted that there were quite a few more troops there than there right ought to be. One of them fat, prissy looking troop transport shuttles was there too. We also heard from our Bothan sniper that they had an anti-air turret emplacement, which could right well shoot us on the ground too. I suggested to the boys that we sneak up on the far side of the place, where none of the doors and windows were looking (and where the turret sure as hell couldn't fire), and find a way up to the roof. See if there was a way in from there. This plan seemed to strike a cord with them, so sneak we did.

We made our way quiet-like about ten paces to the building before a new shift of guards moved in. And if that didn't throw a monkey wrench into the works already, this gung-ho human feller decides to take this moment to shout a battle cry. Now I've seen a lot of right stupid decisions in my life, even made a few myself, but that has to take the cake. He shouts "Let's get em', boys!" and then fumbles his blaster. I, not having the luxury of a projectile weapon at my disposal, pick up the nearest rock I can find and hurl it at a storm trooper.

This is a bit of a teachable moment, I think. Thousands of credits, flawless defensive strategy, and all the skill in the world can be done-in by a well-placed rock. Now, it did nothing more than make this feller dizzy, but it gave me enough of a chance to get nice and personal. I managed to find his gun in the sand and nail him while he was still doubled over, but not before his partner did in my loud-mouthed compadre with a shot square to the heart. My sense of panic only increased when I heard the most awful scream I will ever hear. I turned around to see the Wookie of the team, Krunchy, beating a trooper to death with his own arms.

A man's instinct for fight or flight is quite the interesting thing. Before that day I'd never killed a man, but here I was, eye to eye with a trooper who just watched his friend done in with his own arms, and I knew exactly what was going through his mind. He was a might quicker on the drawn than me, but my aim was truer. That made the second man I'd slain that day, and now I had a hole in my side and in my soul. If only it could have ended there...

With the shouting and the dismemberment and the shooting, all hope of making a quiet entry was well out the window. Fortunately, our Bothan friend had picked up on this. Still reeling from my wounds, I wasn't ready for the next storm trooper that begin to come around the corner. Fortunately that sniper was, and made him fall before he could right figure what was happening.

I saw the Wookie take off the other way around the building as the din of shouting and gunfire started to settle in. Pacing my breath, I tried to clear my mind. There's no surprising them now, and if we don't get them fast they'll send off a message and have all our efforts be in vain. Just then my earpiece blasted with white noise, and I remembered that the Bothan took a comm jammer with him. It made it so I couldn't speak to anyone on my team, but the only ones living couldn't speak basic or were too far off to help much. I figured I had a bit more time, but not that much. By my reckoning at the time, I only had one option:

Force their surrender, obviously.

Now, this may not strike you as the best course of action when assaulting an Imperial base with no help in sight, but you go get yourself a second belly button and see if your reasoning's any better.

I took the grenades from the bodies of the two storm troopers I'd done in, worked all the courage I could muster, and turned the corner towards the front of the complex. It was hell. Five or so troopers lay smoking near the control panel for the turret, which was yet inactive. This was in no small part thanks to that sharp shooting bothan. Next I noticed the Wookie, his fur burned off in three places, barely holding onto consciousness near the comm tower. Then I saw two troopers walking out of the door of the complex holding an E-WEB blaster. I left them a grenade, and quickly made my way into the ship. I threw the other grenade I'd pinched into the cockpit, waited for a thud, and ran in. Inside there was a now dead pilot, an engineer of like status, and an officer that pulled the other two in front of him before it went off. That was a right bit of luck, and it gave me some options... I pointed my gun at him and shouted the worst lie I've ever told in my life, "Surrender! You're outnumbered!"

Fortunately he didn't seem in the mood to trifle much with my blaster, so I stood him up and began to walk him out of the ship.

As we were on the ramp, I made sure to remove all the weapons he had on his person, except for the grenade. That frag I took and pressed firmly against his back, setting it to pressure release mode. The officer had a few choice words about my doing as such, but a little jostling seemed to shut him up right quick. The both of us knew if that grenade lightened up even the slightest it'd mean pink mist, and we silently agreed that was exactly what neither of us wanted. Because of such, he didn't want any of his men putting an abrupt end to me, so as soon as he cleared the gear he started hollering at his men to cease fire.

The last shot fired was by the Bothan before things went silent. It went clean through the fuel line for the shuttle, severing it. Fuel started to spurt out everywhere, but my hostage was a slight bigger concern to the troopers so they didn't seem to take notice. I walked him over to the door to the relay complex and told him to use the intercom. We had a good lengthy talk, and after a long, tense conversation, I convinced them we didn't want any more bloodshed. I offered to them that they could simply get on their shuttle and leave. This bit of dirt isn't worth their lives or their paycheck. And so they filed out of the place, one after another... after another. A solid 25 men in total. But as they were walking, a dark thought crossed my mind.

I couldn't let them leave. If the empire knew this comm relay had been taken, it'd be putting out a big warning to the empire that something was going down in the area soon. More importantly, with the fuel line severed how it was, all the fuel the ship had was now laying on the launchpad, with most of the underground reservoir with it. They couldn't leave if they wanted to, and they probably won't be too happy with me if they feel tricked...

I had to come up with something fast. The last few men were nearly at the shuttle, if any of them simply looked right I'd be dead. I switched the grenade from pressure release to impact as gently and quietly as I could. I'm not too great with a gun, but with this maybe I could make a distraction or...

Then one of them looked right. The last one, his foot was already on the ramp when he saw it. He turned towards me, and took in a breath to let out a shout, but he didn't have a chance to form any words. I had already thrown the grenade. Right at that big pool of gas on the pad.

The resulting explosion was incredible. It caught the underground gas reservoir too; the launchpad was obliterated, and the smoldering wreck of the shuttle was sent bouncing down the hill from the complex. The shockwave knocked me and the officer, who I ironically used as a shield, back several feet. The officer was knocked unconscious, and I made it out without much more than a green spot in my eye for ten seconds. A wave of relief washed over me. I rolled onto my back, breathing out heavily. Then I noticed one of the wings of the shuttle imbedded in the comm tower. And just like that I felt like death again.

I quickly got up and went inside the building. And when I say quickly, I mean as quickly as I could move with all of the adrenaline flushed from my system and my wounds paining me again, so a slow swagger. As I got to the door, so did the Bothan. He patted me on the shoulder and entered the building. We rummaged through the entrance area, and I found a couple stim packs. I jabbed one into my leg, and then started over towards the Wookie. I doubted he was still alive after the explosion, but I felt compelled to check anyway. Twenty minutes into my first mission and I'd already lost one teammate and killed 30 men and destroyed our 'capture' objective, I wanted to find something good in the mix. Fortunately, I did. As I hit him with the stimpack, he livened right up. But again the good feeling I had been building was put to an abrupt end by the sound of blaster fire inside.

I rushed back to the door and peeked around the corner to see the Bothan falling over with a couple of burning holes in him. One in his chest, one in his head. My heart sank, and I ran towards the E-Web those soldiers from before were carrying. I waited for them to come out of the door, and that was it for them. Three more deaths weighing on my conscious: the last two troopers, and the Bothan.

But I still had a mission to do. I had to get the comm relay working and soon, or the Empire would know something was up. So I hurried about and searched the complex. I eventually found a droid who was meant to repair the relay. Inside his metal dome I found some specs for the relay which I needed badly, and by the time I got them onto a datapad the Wookie, Krunchy, was on his feet again.

Now, I don't know about you, but I never took a Wookie to be particularly tech savvy. Regardless of stereotypes, though, he was a miracle worker. He managed to find a way, with the help of yours truly, to make the wing act as a larger array than would normally be in the comm tower. It was by no means pretty, but it was working within half an hour. And as long as the Imps didn't get a look at the complex up close, they'd never be the wiser. We called in the crew that was to run the facility in the Imperial's stead, and left that rock for good.

For my valiant efforts in the capture of the facility, I was more or less demoted. Sure, I may have salvaged the mission after it was doomed to failure, but since I was one of two surviving members, I guess they figured I was also the only one to blame. Guess they weren't too keen on making a Wookie the fall guy. Can't say I blame 'em.

I was redeployed to a nice, quiet, out of the way job where I couldn't muck up anything else on the planet of Naboo. It's a nice little marble, but I didn't get to see much of it. I was given a small transport craft, Firespray class (the same type the infamous Boba Fett had been running around with), and would shuttle people to and fro at night. My people, the Kel Dor, have much better eyesight at night than most other people's, so I could make it places without the Empire being any the wiser.

I liked the change of pace, gave me time to think about things. Killing people's wrong, sure, but I don't think I had much other choice. I could have let them kill me, I guess, but would that be any better? The way I see it, they at one point or another came to make a decision to follow the commands of those who mean the galaxy harm. That doesn't make them bad people by itself, and it sure as hell doesn't make killing them okay. But unlike them, I think when I take their life, it's not as much valuing my life over theirs as combining our value. They must've had hopes and dreams same as I do, so to respect that, to respect their life, I've gotta do as best I can to end this war. To bring peace to everyone and make sure it lasts. I don't think I was really a Rebel until I thought that out, and since then I've been living my life to do the dead proud. As odd as that probably sounds. Think of it this way, everyone would rather be killed by a Ninja than a waffle iron. But given the option, they'd choose not dying above the two of 'em. Ah, what the hell... I'm a soldier, I got no business for philosophizing.

Anyway, I met most of the high-ups in the base making these runs, and was right courteous to them. This earned me a bit of repute, coupled with me repairing the pilot's fighters during the day. The pilots generally appreciated my repairs, and the people I chauffeured seemed to like getting places without people knowing. It was a pretty good gig.

But there was one man I didn't come to know, a Cerean named Dirk Pavane. He apparently had the piloting skills to do what I'd been doing without dark vision like mine. The first time I laid eye on him was when he landed what was left of his ship after a fierce solo mission. A crowd gathered about him quickly, cheering. I asked a crewman what he'd done. "He's incredible!" the crewman beamed, "A Star Destroyer came into orbit and launched a wave of bombers towards where all of our familys had been staying, in a small village 150 clicks south south west of Theed. He managed to take out all but three of the wing before help arrived, that's seven bombers and 14 ties in 4 minutes! On top of that they had a Lambda outfitted as a bomber too, with two of them new interceptors protecting it, and he managed to shoot those down too! Even captured the Lambda's pilot!"

Just to give you some perspective, to become an Ace, you have to destroy 5 enemy aircraft. Most pilots hardly see 5 enemy birds, much less shoot them down. And here this feller becomes a quadruple ace on his first patrol. I don't take myself to be easily impressed, but this at the very least earned him a hat tippin' and a firm handshake. I worked through the crowd towards him, and didn't really get a good look at his plane until I was right up on it.

An N1 Naboo Starfighter, no paint, no markings. A considerable amount of holes. But it was about as shiny as you can get. Chrome.

In the following couple days while I was giving a hand to fixing his plane, the Empire released a warrant for his capture. Since none knew his name and only the sight of his shiny prissy plane, they called him the Chrome Dragon. He seemed to take a liking to the title. They also released a statement about the pilot of the Lambda Dirk shot down , a cold, shifty looking feller by the name of Draxel, had been captured and offered a reward for his rescue. Much to the Dragon's chagrin, it was a higher reward than his bounty.

I had just finished fixing up the Dragon's N1 when I got the call to make one of my night runs. The feller I picked up was a new recruit, but he had the rank of Lieutenant. His name was Ryan Geese. A kind man, curious and sharp, he was being sent to the base to help out with our ground deployments and ops on Naboo. He said he wasn't too keen on his assignment, given his civilian occupation as a playwright, but he'd do his duty. And by golly he wouldn't have to wait long.

Immediately after we got back to base, I hit the sack. I know I slept for a good while, maybe three or four hours, but it felt like not a moment later I was woken by the sounds of running and a blaring siren.

I rushed from my bunk and saw Ryan in the hall. Before I could even get the words out, he looked to me and said, "They've found us. A Star Destroyer is outside the base, they've just deployed. We're evacuating."

Most when hearing such terrible news so early in the morning would despair, but I think I got to the point of not being able to some time ago. I immediately said back "I'm powering up my ship, send any personnel you find my way!"

His face tightened to a steely grin. Confidence and straight talk are a contagious thing, it seems. We parted ways, me going to the hanger. The ground crew was panicking, but when they saw me strut up to my ship like nothing was wrong they all stopped caterwaulling. I flicked on the ship power, and then turned my head outside the ramp. It was about then I figured out why exactly they stopped their hubbub, I was still in my pajamas. I started moving to pack up our supplies and shouted at them "Better this than six feet of dirt pulling at your bones, now get moving! We need to get these birds in the sky as fast as the pilots can make it here!"

They stood there looking at each other for a second or two, but that seemed to light a fire in the chief's belly, and he started barking orders. The first pilot out in the air was the Dragon, and instead of running away like he was told to do, he kept all the people in the sky busy so we could get up and out. I didn't hear of it until later, but he bagged another eight birds before I took off. Three of 'em were before the next pilot made it off the ground.

Within a minute and a half all the fighters were in the sky, following the dragon's lead and making sure the transports got away. I was the last one out. I loaded up my Firespray with as much as it could hold, and then took in the administrative staff. The last persons into the hanger was Ryan with a group of three marines. I was waiting in the ramp for Ryan to make sure they got out okay, so I was a might dissapointed when a group of five or so storm troopers came into the hanger and started trading fire with them. I reached for my holster, and immediately lamented not getting a blaster in all this time. I ran into the ship and started taking off. I skirted the ship, engines downward, between Ryan and the troopers. They took the hint and piled in, then I righted the ship and started to pull out of the hanger.

Ryan started to climb into the cockpit, and I looked away for a fraction to see him. "ATST!" He shouted, and I looked forward in time to see as such filling the whole of the hanger door. I, with a touch of genius if I do say so myself, flicked the weapons from cannons to tractor beam, and started lifting the walker and carrying it with us upward. After getting up and away from the base, I let it fall and saw it explode when it hit the ground.

I quickly found myself in the midst of a furball the likes of which hadn't been seen by the Rebellion before. We were outnumbered three to one and it showed, so I took it upon myself to find us a way out of this mess. "Hey Dragon, my name's Xel. I'm in the Firespray and I patched up your ship a day or two ago. You open to a notion I had just now?"

"Sure, why not?"

"All these are short range fighters we're fighting. If we get rid of that Star Destroyer, they're going to run out of fuel and crash on their own."

"Easier said than done..."

"I'll protect you all from their guns, just get on my tail and don't be afraid to trade some paint."

"Red leader here, this is crazy. Blue leader advise."

"This is blue leader, I think I know where he's going with this. All flights, disengage and form a line on the firespray's tail."

Within four or five seconds, I had a line of eight birds on my tail. A couple Z-95s, five Y-Wings, and a shiny N1.

I continued over the comms "Alright boys, stay behind me and set your shields to the sides. Whoever's last in line set your shields to the back. My ship has better shields than yours, so I can get you within torpedo range of the destroyer. When I say go, fan out and fire torpedoes into their hanger, it has the highest chance to create secondary explosions. Now hold on, this is bound to get bumpy!"

The fire coming from that Stardestroyer was intense, but not too accurate. A shot hit of the bunch, slicing through the shields and putting a divot in the hull, but I still had a job to do. We got closer, until I figured there was no possible way for them to miss, and I called go! They spread out from behind my wing and fired right into the side hanger of the Venator. We were barely able to avoid the explosion ourselves. The warheads did indeed create secondary explosions, to the point of breaking the ship's back. It began to fracture, and split in half, falling to the grassy hills below. The lot of us tuned starward, but our hips and hurrahs were cut abruptly short.

The Ties we'd left behind had caught up, and while most were floating about the burning husk of their command ship, one was right on the tail of the N1. I couldn't get my hand to the comm button before the Tie fired, and that pretty little N1 turned into a fireball.

I couldn't believe my eyes. Actually, I think it'd be better to say I wouldn't believe my eyes. I turned to follow the rubble of his plane, looking feverishly for any sign of him. I wasn't about to let anyone else die. Then, amidst the ruin, I spied his droid. Better yet, it was nearly intact. I caught it with the tractor beam, and looked even more furiously, the ground getting ever closer. Then I found him, what was left of him, anyway. At this point I didn't even care if he was alive, I just didn't want him to go unburied. With the tractor already in use, I had to fly sideways next to him, scooping him into the Firespray. I managed to pull it off without getting all to dangerously to the ground, and put the droid inside too.

I could feel the fear in my hold, and smell the empathy. It only took about fifteen seconds to snatch him up and enter hyperdrive towards the predesignated emergency rendezvous point, but from how Ryan's grim, hopeless face looked... That made the short jaunt feel like an eternity. I spoke dryly, "Make sure not to touch anything." and made my way into the hold. The marines and the staff all sat in their buckled buckets around the charred remains. I walked among them, and knelt down over Dirk's body. I looked him over. His clothing was melted to his body, and he was missing most everything on his left side, but his head and torso seemed mostly intact (in spite of the larger portion of his face being gone too). I put my ear in front of his mouth. Or at least I thought it was his mouth... regardless he wasn't breathing. But then I noticed something, something that lifted my heart in a way nothing else has.

He was bleeding.

Now, normally a person bleeding isn't a good thing, but in this very unique case, it'd mean that something other than gravity was pushing blood from his veins. To be specific, a heart. The marines seemed confused by my sudden change in demeanor as I put my ear to his chest. His heart beat. Just once, but that's all I needed to know. "Knife! Someone give me a knife! Ryan! He's not all dead yet!"

The troops looked at each other anxiously, possibly more worried for their pilot's mental state than the health of a charred corpse.

"There's Bacta in one of the crates in the hold, I need someone to find it!"

My voice rung in the stillness of the ship. I don't blame the marines for not jumping up to help, he looked like a pink gory blob that I could hardly even stomach. But I was resolved to do my due anyway.

Ryan came down from the cockpit and put a hand on my shoulder, "He's dead, Xel. I know you don't want it-"

"No! I don't want it! I know I can save him, and I thought what I'd done in the last few minutes might of earned your trust! I'm going to need help, so please, all of you, trust me just this once."

Everyone sat in silence for a good while. None of them knew medicine, but they could be pretty sure of his chances. But seeing as how I just got all of them out alive (present Dirk excluded), they seemed to take a liking to my argument.

"You're one crazy mechanic, Xel" he said, pulling his vibroknife from its sheath, "but I think we owe you and him at least this. What do you need?"

I smiled under my mask. No one could really tell, but that's neither here or there.

I went about cutting away his clothes and barking out orders: "First, we need to expose all of what's left of his skin. Then we need to apply bacta to try to stop the bleeding. You, go find me the bacta, you get me the welding torch from the toolkit. We can bring him back if we work fast!"

I managed to remove all the clothing from his body, and used the torch to close up any open wounds. Thank the Force he didn't catch any shrapnel, because then I began chest compressions to keep the blood flowing to his brain. I splashed some bacta on him to try to heal the burns I just made too, and poured a little into the thing I thought was his mouth for good measure.

Not too far in, I started to think it wouldn't be enough. Even with the two brains, he's gotta be running low on braincells. His heart pumping that one time meant his subconscious instincts were still intact, and the part of the brain that runs those is fine, but I need to think up a way to deliver oxygen to the bloodstream of a man who currently has one lung at best. There was only one way I could think of.

"Ryan," I grunted, beginning to cut a small hole into the front of his chest, "You know how to work the ship? You were watching me before, right?"

"Yeah, yeah I guess. What do you need me to do?"

"First, find as many breath masks as you can. If they're aren't enough for everyone, get those without in the cockpit and seal the door."

I grabbed the welder to burn through his ribcage, but then found it had already been shattered. I started clearing out the pieces and putting them into my pocket.

I continued, "Then, I need you to vent this compartment of oxygen, disable the artificial gravity, and open the door. The one that goes to space."

Ryan stood there, equally as shocked by my words as the sight of me cutting a hole into Dirk's lung. Then he shook his head, slapped himself in the face, and got to it. Good man.

The marines and Ryan were the only ones left in the hold with me and Mr. Meatsack, and grizzled as they probably were, they seemed to be dry heaving as I took off my mask with the ramp door wide open, and shot and shot a good long burst of my homeland cocktail into his lymph nodes. My planet's atmosphere is a little less oxygen than he was probably used to, but he didn't seem much in the position to complain. Ryan, on the other hand, was.

I brought my mask back to my face, and spoke through the intercom "Ryan, I'm about to ask a lot of you."

"Surprise."

"I'm going to need you to reach inside his chest, find his heart, and squeeze. Gently, like you was milking a critter."

"I don't know if I can do that..."

"Well then you can take off my mask and hand it to me so I can let him breath every five seconds?"

"Yeah, yeah I think so."

So I reached my arm around his lung and started feeling around. I found a thing with a whole lot of tubes that smelled more like blood than poop, and started squeezing. He started bleeding again, a good sign I found the right organ. And me and Ryan kept on like that for some time, me working his heart with one hand, and using my mask to blow air straight in his lung with the other.

After fifteen minutes or so, I couldn't compress it anymore, the blood had frozen. Along with it his brain, or so I figured. Good ol' do it yourself cryostasis to keep his brain in one piece. That was my theory, anyway. All I know about medicine I know from patching myself up, and I'm a different species than him, so for all I knew I'd just preserved him better for an open casket (although we should probably get him a face for that). I took my arm from inside him and tried to relax a bit. Being in the vacuum for that long without my mask was a stretch, even for someone of my racial persuasion, and it took a toll. I slept, hanging there next to him at the brink of falling out of the ship until Ryan told me we'd nearly reached port.

He told me we were going to meet with a recently liberated Nebulon-B frigate _Troubadour_. Being in the midst of a medical emergency, I thought we'd give em' a holler before we arrived.

"This is Specialist Xel aboard Firespray carrying personnel and equipment from Naboo, hailing Troubadour, Troubadour do you copy."

"This is Troubadour command, send your traffic, over."

"Medical emergency, repeat, medical emergency. We have a pilot in... uh... critical condition, and we're going to need to move him to the medbay in a zero-gravity environment. We will also need him to stay in a vacuum. How copy? Over."

"Good copy, over. Medical emergency requires vacuum and zero gravity. Will need to check with Troubadour Captain to grant permission. Over."

"Copy, ETA six minutes, will await confirmation. Over and out."

"Copy, Troubadour command over and out."

The wait was agonizing. People get prickly when they get a taste of power, but more importantly they get cold. The chances of a captain turning off life support and displacing an entire deck, even if it were to save a life, are pretty slim.

"Xel, come in, this is Troubadour command. Over."

"Xel copies Troubadour command, over."

"I've spoken with the captain, and he decided that we cannot afford to evacuate in order to move him through from the hanger to the medbay. The cost would just be too great. Over"

Just then, Ryan reached over my shoulder and slammed down the comm button, "This is Lieutenant Ryan Geese, and I have spent the last twenty minutes watching Xel pump this man's heart with his own hand! The pilot's a quadruple ace! Now do you really not have the resources, or do you just not have the balls or heart to give this hero a chance?!"

I gently elbowed his hand off the button, and then pressed the button myself. "Over~" and then made a hand motion like I was dropping a microphone.

A deep, unfamiliar voice came over the radio, "...Is he worth it?"

Ryan pressed the button again, "It's always worth it, Sir. That's what the Rebellion is all about."

"You're cleared to land. Preparations will be made to see him to the medbay as quickly as possible. Godspeed. Over and out.

I leaned back from the console breathing out. I looked up to Ryan. I couldn't tell if he was still angry or if he was nervous, but his brow was covered in sweat. I slapped his arm playfully, "Hell of a first day, huh?"

"Yeah, heh."

"You shoulda seen what mine was like."

Ryan gave a hearty laugh, and then his face turned a bit grave. "Xel, whether or not he's going to make it out of this... That was a good thing you did. I've never seen anyone work that hard to save a life before. It was... Inspiring."

"You got a big heart, Mr. Geese. You know, you'd make one helluva admiral."

"Ha! That'll be the day..."


End file.
